


Lost Boy Volume 3

by LadyZeppelin1111 (QueenBoudica1770), QueenBoudica1770



Series: Lost Boy [3]
Category: Jimmy Page - Fandom, Led Zeppelin, Real Person Fiction, Robert Plant - Fandom, Rock Music RPF
Genre: Adventure, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Bisexual Male Character, Eventual Smut, F/M, Fluff and Smut, Gay Male Character, Hand Jobs, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Intense, LGBTQ Themes, M/M, Magic, Male Slash, Masturbation in Shower, Multi, Neo-Paganism, Nonmonogamous Relationship, Other, Paganism, Rough Sex, Sensuality, Sex, Sex Magic, Sexy, Threesome - F/M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-21
Updated: 2020-06-28
Packaged: 2021-03-04 12:01:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 14,944
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24849430
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/QueenBoudica1770/pseuds/LadyZeppelin1111, https://archiveofourown.org/users/QueenBoudica1770/pseuds/QueenBoudica1770
Summary: Ok this may not be a coherent story like the rest of the ones I've posted, but this does follow what's already been laid down in the previous Lost Boy and Latter Day stories. It may kinda jump around like drabbles, or whatever my muse decides is going to be going on. Right now it seems to be focused on live shows of them I've been watching, all sweaty and wrung out and sexy like. Mmmph.But hopefully it'll be sexy and full of adventure and humor ;).It's morphed into Morocco adventure time!There may be some trauma and violence somewhere.
Relationships: Jimmy Page/Robert Plant, Jimmy Page/Robert Plant/Original Female Character(s), John Bonham/John Paul Jones
Series: Lost Boy [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1781110
Comments: 29
Kudos: 21





	1. Put it RIGHT IN YOUR EAR

**Author's Note:**

> Ok so this is from the 1975 Earl's Court performances, that I've been watching all weekend, and lemme tell ya, it's like porn.
> 
> IT'S PORN, GUYS. HOMAHGAWD.
> 
> The..the sexiness, the power, the volume, the eargasms. ROBERT'S ORGASMIC MOANS, Hurrr wow.
> 
> There's no sex in this chapter, but man I got kinda hot and bothered writing it. 
> 
> Writing about music, who knew, it could be this sexy. I think there's gonna be some rough, hard fucking going on after the show. Mmhm.

Lost Boy 3

1

Earl’s Court, 1975

Led Zeppelin is at the full apex of their flight. They are, quite possibly, the biggest thing in the world, with a profit larger that any two industrialized nations in the world. They played five nights at Earl’s Court in their native UK and it was packed and full of energy.

However, with little break or rest by the last couple of shows Robert’s voice was wrecked, absolutely wrecked. It was husky, thickened, with him unable to hit the higher mid-tones he once had falling out of his mouth with ease. He pushed ahead with his usual youthful energy and determination, singing in a lower key, phrasing differently, pushing through. Jimmy still felt that Robert at his worst and vocals at his most ragged was better than most anybody else’s at their best. A combination of smoking various substances, grueling tour schedules, no vocal training, wearing an open shirt in Wisconsin in winter and the like (and giving himself lung infections and pneumonia) and throat surgery had taken its toll the past few years.

The enjoyment and the exuberance was still there, though, in all of them. Despite Robert’s vocal woes, he was even upbeat during the shows, letting forth with his usual banter to the crowd and joshing with Bonzo. Jonesy and Bonham were tight as ever, laying down some of the crushingest rock backbone and funkiest, soulful rhythms that could be found in a rock band. 

What some who were paying attention began to notice was the rapport and chemistry between the guitarist and the singer, which had always fueled their creativity and energy onstage, which spilled over to the audience who lapped it up eagerly. But now…Robert with those endless legs in those jeans he looked to be melted and poured into, women’s blouse open exposing the sweat-glistened chest, blond curls spilling down his shoulders and bouncing with his movements, the way he danced, moved, twirled, rubbed against Jimmy as he was playing. He was pure, raw, unadulterated joy and sex and fun-loving humor, wrapped up in a sweaty, extremely gyratingly sexual, package. Jimmy didn’t realize his own contribution to the mix; his dragon suit with wonderfully embroidered Chinese dragons, his dark wavy hair obscuring his face, lending an air of mystery, his movements, theatrical and deliberate. He was slender and pale like a creature of the night, knowing, patient, graceful, beautiful.

It got quite intense during Whole Lotta Love, when Jimmy got to showcase the mini Theremin during the infamous middle section. He took off his guitar and began moving his body to manipulate the volume and pitch of the electronic tone the strange, electronic box emitted. By moving, say, your arms or hands, the sound and volume would go up or down. Jimmy moved like a dancer, raising his arms, kneeling at times, moving away to let the tone echo. 

And at the same time it seemed like he was playing Robert, who moved, mirrored Jimmy’s movements, and screamed and moaned. Oh, the moans, the husky noises that now came out of that sweet little cocksucking mouth of his. His thickened, ravaged vocal chords turned the noise coming out of that powerful chest into the most raw, savage, orgasmic screams, groans, and slutty moans that ever came off a stage that wasn’t X-rated.

Jimmy had to keep himself focused on the Theremin, keeping up with Robert, and hoping he hadn’t popped an erection big enough to drain all the blood from his brain and he’d forget how to play his guitar.

It was like a dance, a progression of the call-and-return guitar and voice thing they started with Dazed and Confused years ago, at the beginning, but Jimmy was using his whole body, as the Theremin passed low-level, harmless amounts of electricity through the guitarist’s body. He was the wire, grounded, conducting the sonic waves out into the audience, eliciting the sounds of Robert coming, climaxing, gyrating, oh, again and again. Right there under the lights, on stage, in front of everyone.

Robert screamed, a harsh, Stygian shriek that none of the members of the band had heard before, as Robert was caught up in the moment, feeling that sonic power, the lust, the need, that Jimmy was sending out to him, to be returned by his tortured voice. He screamed, and it seemed that time had stopped for everybody but the two of them.

“AAAAGH! UUUUHHHH, ARRRRGH! Mmmmm…” Robert tapered off, only to scream in that unearthly, haunting, utterly orgasmic, possibly Satanic, shriek again.

In front of the Theremin Jimmy knelt to one knee, held that pose as he knew he looked so graceful and powerful that way, letting the Theremin emit its unearthly shriek, then was back on his feet, his arm swinging up to make the tone rise even farther, louder, yes, louder, and Robert matched it, bollocksed voice and all, he MATCHED it.

Jimmy was surprised everyone in the audience hadn’t all spontaneously gotten off, just a mass, synchronized fucking climax in a roomful of sweaty people of all kinds, just a mass fucking, an earfucking, eargasms and fucking ruining everyone’s pants all at once.

Wrung out.

Gasping.

Whimpering.

A mess, a mass of exhausted flesh quivering, sated yet always hungry for more.

Clear your head, Jimmy, dear God…

He stumbled, thankfully the camera, as some of it was being recorded, was on Robert who was moaning with his eyes rolled back in his head. He ended the section, nodding to the rhythm section to let them know of the change, and grabbed the guitar he wanted from the roadie.

Fuck, breathe, Jimmy. He willed it and finally his hands began playing, picking up the song again, so they could get on with the concert. Oh, he was gonna fix this painful need, this ache in his loins, after the show. He would play Robert’s body again, but this time there’s be no lights, no Theremin, no audience, nobody else but the pair of them. And he’d fuck that sexy motherfucker till next Tuesday, he’d shag him until he got those noises, those unbelievable, soul-wrenching, ovary-exploding, ball-emptying sounds out of his Robert again. That was a promise, to himself, and he moved closer to Robert as they had went straightaway into Black Dog, and Robert turned smiling to him, saw his eyes. The need, the desire, the cage of his heart open, bared, heart beating, his body needing Robert’s touch.

Robert’s smile grew bigger, and he waggled his hips and flipped his yellow hair at Jimmy.

That slut, Jimmy thought. Jesus Christ, Robert was walking, pulsating sex. Did he have any idea what he did to people?

The next time they were close Robert’s own eyes, shield partially by his hair, spoke volumes to Jimmy. 

Yes, play me, you don’t need the Theremin to make me scream, make me come and scream and have your name ripped from my lips, over and over and over. I’m so lost, just a lost boy on the yellow brick road, the road that goes ever and ever on. And he would get his release, he vowed, Jimmy and that infernal machine making him nearly ejaculate right in his too-tight jeans notwithstanding. “Shall we do only one encore?” he mouthed to Jimmy.

The guitarist nodded with an expression that was doubtful he’d be able to make it through the first encore without getting his hands on Robert.

The rhythm section knew what was up, and knew the pair would be at each other as soon as humanly possible, so they knew to stay out of the way. They’d probably wreck one of the dressing rooms, unable to make it to the hotel.

Ah, yes, a day in the life of Led Zeppelin.

*****

Hey look, I even decorated!

[Earl's Court Jimmy](https://www.deviantart.com/zandoz/art/Jimmy-Page-with-Theremin-846188704)  
[Earl's Court Robert](https://www.deviantart.com/zandoz/art/Robert-Plant-Earls-Court-846269452)


	2. Put it RIGHT IN YOUR EAR part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What happens after the extremely sexual onstage experience.
> 
> M/M ROBERT N JIMMY going at it.

Lost Boy 3

2

The encore didn’t get cut short, as John Paul Jones and Bonzo both were still hyped up in freeform mode, giving the fans as much concert enjoyment as could be squeezed out of the four band members. 

Robert continued to yowl and preen like a cat in heat, making sure Jimmy was watching him whenever he quivered in pseudo-ecstasy or tossed his golden locks. Robert always enjoyed himself, with no thought put into it, but after Whole Lotta Love tonight he decided he enjoyed the greedy gaze of the guitarist on him.

Finally the show ended for real this time, with the band heading backstage immediately to cool down a bit, talk to some lucky fans, pick up a few girls. As soon as they were out of sight, hand in hand, the guitarist and singer darted to their dressing room and locked the door. Once inside, the pair stood, their gaze unbreakable, each one waiting to see what the other would do.

Robert, not having the patience of Jimmy, reached him in two longs strides and had his mouth on Jimmy’s, a frenzied, filthy kiss. They parted long enough for Jimmy to say, “Good God, Robert, tonight was fucking hot. That was the most obscene, most sublime thing I’ve ever seen,” he unbuckled Robert’s belt with practiced ease and shucked the singer’s trousers over that luscious ass.

“You were stroking me off with that Theremin. You know how beautiful you are, don’t you? Like some Satanic dancer up there making me come in front of thousands,” Robert growled, his voice even huskier now after nearly four hours of abusing it.

Jimmy pushed Robert against the dressing room table, feeling the lion-maned singer’s now-free, well-endowed cock against his own bulge in his pants. Hair products, ashtrays and cans of soda went flying to make room. “Oh, you’re gonna come,” hissed Jimmy, freeing his own manhood already dripping. “And I’m gonna fucking explode.” In seconds Robert had been twisted around and was now bent over the table. Jimmy had found a bottle of lotion in his lust-filled haste, not waiting to retrieve their usual lube, and used it to work on Robert’s hole, working his fingers in. In a sexual fury he wasn’t slow or gentle, but Robert was too worked up himself to complain. He bent over the singer, breath hot on his shoulder, Jimmy’s nostrils flaring. 

Without preamble Jimmy entered Robert, one long, deep thrust followed by another. Then another. “I need you…unnnh…to make those sounds again…nngggh..” panted Jimmy.

“Then make me…ahh, make those sounds,” challenged Robert.

Jimmy responded by pounding into his prostate, fucking him dizzy. Robert screamed out his name, louder, more desperate. Robert’s ragged voice husked out a lower-pitched, throaty moan that was the dirtiest sound Jimmy had ever heard. In between those coarse sounds was the sound of skin on skin as Jimmy fucked Robert, his Robert, that wanton golden god squirming against him. He could tell the blond man was getting close, so he gathered together what shreds of self control he had left and slowed down. No, he wanted to play that unbelievably gorgeous body like he had the Theremin earlier. And he did.

He would pick up the pace, moaning Robert’s name, reach around, stroke that enormous cock of Robert’s, counting out time like he was in concert, then back off. Robert became so overwrought he screamed out, seemingly to Jimmy, louder than he’d sounded over Zeppelin’s PA system. “OH, JIMMEEE, AHHHH GODDDD….AAOOOWWWWW, YES, FASTER. I need it. Damn, damn FUCK I need it I NEEEED IT.”

Down the hall in one of the reception rooms where Bonzo and Jonesy were chilling a Hellish shrieking, as of someone on the cusp of tremendous pleasure, or pain, perhaps even both, reverberated. “Goddammit, those two,” growled Richard Cole, their tour manager.

Jimmy had never had Robert writhe and scream and buck the way he was right now, had never taken control of him like this. He knew this was the most intense sex either of them had had with each other.

Robert had never been jackhammered into a dressing room table before, but he thought in passing, there’s a first time for everything. Jimmy was panting behind him, each push inside a burst of white light in his head and extreme pleasure. His dark spirit, his wizard, his guitarist, his husband, at least in private. There was that aching tightness in his abdomen, that need for release, he couldn’t take it. “OHHHH! Gonna…nnnnnhhh, gonna come, Jimmy…”

The guitarist slowed again, but Robert reached back, feeling around, caught hold of Jimmy’s wrist, and hauled him bodily forward, pulling him till he was flat on top of Robert’s back. “YOU’RE GONNA MAKE ME COME!! NOW KEEP FUCKING!” he roared, like the voice of Satan himself had rose up out of the bowels of Hell, only more sexy.

When two alphas clash, sparks fly.

Jimmy found he couldn’t pull away, and there he was, still inside Robert who was growling like a feral beast and had his wrist in a vise grip. It was terrifying.

It was _FUCKING HOT._

So he nailed the shit out of the singer, who stroked himself in time with Jimmy pumping into him. Finally, it was there, the release, like Robert’s soul had dropped out of his body, watching as he striped the dressing room table with his come, more unbelievable sounds roaring up out of his chest, ending with “OOOHHHWAOOHHHHHHHAAAHHOOHHHHH!!” similar to the end of You Shook Me, but so much more guttural, rough, and sexual.

Richard Cole was beating on the door, yelling something about not killing Percy, but Jimmy ignored it, speeding headlong toward his own climax. “Robert! Agh, Robert, God!” he panted, and pulled out, his cock spurting thick white jizz on Robert’s ass.

“What the hell is going on, you two?” Richard was banging on the door and shouting. “You fucking or killing each other? I don’t get paid enough for all that! Come on!”

It was several minutes before the door to the dressing room opened, and the disheveled, contented looking, still breathing heavy pair exited, their clothes looking the worse for wear. “The fuck, boys?” Richard shouted. “You can’t just be doing this everywhere! What if it gets out?”

“As if people didn’t just watch us fuck each other onstage for four hours?” Jimmy countered.

“You know what I mean, if word gets out to the wrong people, we’re all finished,” Richard snarled.

“I know,” Robert said. “Gotta keep things under wraps. Respectable, wholesome rock stars,” he added bitterly. 

“Lads, you know me and G don’t care what you cats get up to offstage, as long as it ain’t murder,” the tour manager said, more gently this time. “But you need to be more careful. A lot is at stake.”

“We know,” they both snapped at the same time, and made their way to the limo to head back to the hotel.

*****

[Dat face doh](http://fav.me/ddyhl37)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> They finally get some release after the show, a dressing room gets trashed, good family entertainment.
> 
> Here's hoping it curled a few toes hahaha.
> 
> As usual, comments, kudos, donuts welcome, I try to stick with actual events as much as possible, but I'm sure there's more knowledgeable souls out there. Be gentle with me lol.
> 
> I'm still kicking around more ideas. The boys may decide to make another trip to Morocco. Go someplace they don't have to pretend and can't touch each other the way they want.


	3. The Morning After

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> New developments in the Led Zeppelin enterprise, some scolding, and the boys take things into their own hands.

Robert rolled over in the large hotel room bed, rubbed his head, then realized someone was moving around in the room, and it wasn't Jimmy. He sat up to find a young, heavyset blonde rummaging through drawers, looking for something in particular. "Here, now, what's all this?" Robert called out, causing her to jump. He squinted, trying to focus his tired eyes on the semi-familiar figure and came up with a name. "Lisa, wasn't it? What you doing in me room?" 

She caught her breath and smiled. "I was just looking for the extra key to, uh, 'your' room to turn in to the office. Richard was askin' for it." A room was always booked for each of the boys to keep up appearances, but often Jimmy or Robert would end up at the other's room, and the roadies and other hangers-on would then take the unused room.

"Why's he asking you to get it?" Which meant, why is a groupie pawing through my stuff? His voice was scratchy and voice tight this morning, but not as severe as he'd expected.

"Because," she said in her Appalachian accent, "To quote him, he didn't wanna have to look at y'alls dicks out, he sees 'em enough."

"Sounds about like him," Robert conceded, discovering that indeed, he and Jimmy were stark naked. "Ah, try that pair of jeans, over there."

She did, and was successful in her search, and beamed at Robert happily

"So, this is kinda weird, I wake up and one of the girls is just, in me room."

"Didn't Richard tell you? I'm y'alls minder, to make the wives n' girlfriends happy, you know, having a woman help when you're on tour. Make it seem like you're staying outta trouble."

"So he's...hiring groupies for actual jobs now? Didn't I shag you a couple nights ago?"

"No, and yeah," and she proceeded to explain as Robert got himself a drink of water, still nude, that she's been following the band for the usual fangirl reasons but that she graduated from some business college or other and her family owned a bunch of hotels and were rich so she just did whatever, whenever, but she did have experience running hotels and dealing with people.

As she was finishing up Jimmy's black-haired head popped up from the covers he was buried in and demanded to know why there was a heifer bleating at him in his room.

"You can tell Jimmy never lived on a farm, if she's bleating she'd be a bloody lamb, if she was a heifer she'd be mooing. Oh now look what you've done," Robert scolded his bedmate at the big, round blue eyes of the girl filling up.

"Sorry," he rolled over onto his back, sighing. "You're not a heifer, I tend to like them tall, thin and blonde. But why, oh why, are you babbling about business in my room at this time of morning?"

Lisa sniffled and accepted Robert's apology on Jimmy's behalf that he wasn't a morning person. "You wanted me to tell you about Jonesy if and when it happened, you were pretty adamant about it the other night," Lisa went on.

"Oh, you bagged Jonesy!" cackled Robert with glee. He so loved hearing about the lowkey, self-conscious, extremely discrete and independent bassist's debauchery. He'd started to think nothing ever happened, other than him possibly complaining to the empty walls about anything and everything. Robert sat down on the huge bed and patted the place beside him, which Lisa joined him, Robert STILL naked like it was perfectly normal. "Tell me, does he fuck like he plays bass? I somehow imagine him giving it to you like the bassline for "Ramble On" like noodling along then BAM, how you like that?"

"ARRRGH," groused Jimmy, who got up and staggered into the bathroom to piss and shower.

The girl giggled and answered, "He's got stamina like you wouldn't believe, and he loves to do the whole slow, fast, faster, then slow down again, I thought I was gonna explode outta impatience before I got off."

"How was it?" Robert grilled, the pair like two high school girls gossiping. "I've never been able to catch him doing much of anything, the fox."

"Uhh..well...I ain't gonna start comparing all you guys, I don't wanna start a fight."

"I mean, does he keep the poker face like when he's onstage, or does he go full demon?" Robert asked.

"Poker face," she blurted out, and they both rolled with laughter.

"I have to tell Bonzo this, oh this is a riot!" Robert hooted.

Jimmy walked out of the shower, feeling refreshed but still annoyed, and began looking for something to put on. He got dressed and noticed Robert and the heifer were on their backs side by side roaring with mirth. Ok, so he was being catty, the girl really was all right, pretty curly blonde hair, large blue eyes, boobs for days, round hips, round legs, soft stomach. Robert didn't discriminate, he loved women, all women, adored them, period. Except when it came to Jimmy, that is. He was wrapped up hopelessly in the guitarist in a way that sometimes scared even Jimmy. Which is why he shouldn't feel the sting of jealousy watching him giggle with this curvy hillbilly girl whose voice was giving him a headache. He lit a cigarette and puffed to calm his nerves. 

After they both calmed down a bit, Lisa told them they had a meeting with Peter Grant that afternoon and they should probably start getting motivated. Robert informed her he was going to shower and find some breakfast, so Lisa departed to go give the key to the front desk.

Jimmy followed Robert into the bathroom and stood there as he got in the shower. "What was that all about? We have a lady Richard Junior now?"

"Looks that way," Robert answered. "Probably one of G's ideas, to keep the missus' off our backs by having a lady run interference." He had shampooed his hair and was now lathering himself up, wondering at Jimmy's mood.

"You seem to be getting on well with her," the guitarist said tightly.

"Well, yeh, she's nice. She gave me some juicy tidbits about ol Jonesy." After a moment of silence Robert poked his head from the shower curtain. "Pagey, are you jealous?"

"No! I was the one who said years ago we shouldn't hold back, free love, keeping up appearances, remember?" 

"You're jealous," declared Robert as he rinsed off. Somehow this both troubled him and made him giddy, to know he really did feel that much for him.

"I'm married and you have Charlotte and your little girl," Robert reminded him.

"Of course we do!" he snapped. "It's just..I'm not.."

Robert shut off the water and exited the tub, wrapping a towel around his middle. "What? What is it, love?" he asked gently.

"I don't care who you've had your dick in," Jimmy struggled to explain. "That doesn't bother me much anymore. The way you were, laughing together, like old friends. I know I'm sometimes not easy to deal with, not easy to love. It made me feel...I felt like..like..you needed someone more like that, more like--you."

"Ah, my Jimmurs," murmured Robert, folding him into those long arms. "You know you're the one, right? I had someone more like me before we met, my first crush Steve, remember? It didn't work out, it just couldn't be, with him. We just fit, Jimmylove. Always, forever. No matter what happens. You know this, don't you?"*

Jimmy stared into the deep blue eyes of his friend, bandmate, and the man he pledged himself to in a pagan ceremony at Jennings Farm years prior. His husband, though nobody but a select handful of people knew, could ever know. Even though it wasn't legal, their hearts were bound. He nodded at last, a hint of a grin tugging at his soft, perfect lips.**

"You know you're in my soul, Jimmy," Robert said quietly.

"You're in mine, as well," Jimmy affirmed. Ever since the incident back in 1969 at a diner in Florida, they hadn't spoken of it. The ramifications of it were too scary, that Jimmy may have actually done something unnatural to save Robert from possibly being killed by a mob. He somehow alerted Richard, who was outside, to drive off the locals attacking them, without speaking as he'd been struck in the abdomen and barely able to breathe, let alone talk. He'd reached out in desperation, as he'd meditated and practiced Thelema for years, performing the spells faithfully, begging for knowledge and abilities beyond that of mortals. That one time, with Robert in danger and Jimmy in desperation, it was granted, and he shouted in Richard's mind using just his own mind, to save them, which he heard and he did. But Jimmy's sanity was, for a time, the price, as he acted out in disturbing ways and imagined things that weren't there, until the effects slowly faded away.**

Both were frightened of what Jimmy would do if he was that desperate again, what would he open his mind and soul to, what would he sacrifice? For Robert? This went through both their minds as they stared at one another, until Robert finally broke the connection. "Come on, my love," he said, wanting to lighten the mood. "Let's get some breakfast."

"Get dressed first, you fucking hippie ass nudist," joked the guitarist.***

The meeting was a little surreal, to say the least, as all four members congregated in Peter Grant's office along with Richard and Lisa. Oh, the look on John Paul's face, Robert thought, stifling giggles. Peter wasted no time in getting to it, introducing Lisa Camp as their day to day go-to, an extra Richard, if you will.

"Her name is Camp?" snickered Robert, thinking about 'camp follower.'

"Yeah, that's her name, Percy," interrupted G. "You got a problem, Jonesy?"

The bassist's grey eyes refused to look the girl in the face. Lisa was dressed in business suit, skirt, jacket, blouse, tie, the jacket unable to hide her ample bosom, and she was trying not to laugh, herself.

Bonzo looked at Robert, Jones, and Lisa, trying to work out what was actually going on. Jimmy was even rather tickled at this point, the only thing showing it being his green eyes glinting.

"Now for the second thing to discuss," Peter continued. "You two," he nodded at Robert and Jimmy in particular. "Your little incident at Earl's Court last night had to be hushed over, people threatened, lies told, just another day at the office for yours truly. However, this little attachment of yours is dangerous to all of us, and you flaunt it! Like a pair of teenagers just discovering tits and wanking yourselves!"

Silence descended upon the room. Peter took a deep breath to collect himself, then went on. "You must be more careful. If this was to go public, you'd never play music again, not even in that dive me and Pagey first saw you in, Rob. Do you understand? This is how the world is. You gotta play by the rules, or they'll fuck ya. Am I getting through to you?"

"Yes," hissed Jimmy in barely controlled rage. Robert nodded sadly.

"I'm not telling you you can't love each other or be together, but you gotta be discreet. Miss Camp here will help with that, running PR and helping with tours."

After the meeting, Jimmy was seething as they headed back to Jimmy's house for a bit of rest. Robert was angry as well, chafed at the restrictions they'd have to follow, just because they were both the same gender. Why did love have to have limitations, and labels? Why couldn't they go to the park hand in hand like straight couples could? Or legally marry, or even more than whisper anything about their relationship? Well, they'll be careful in public, they decided--but they planned to use their down time to spend some time together, be able to do as they pleased.

Robert suggested they take another trip to Morocco, this time with more knowledge and experience, and enjoy themselves, and each other. Piss on the world's sensibilities and hangups.

*See my earlier stories Lost Boy 1 and 2

**This happened in Lost Boy 2

***this is from my story Latter Days

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sounds like another adventure! What you guys think?
> 
> As usual, kudos, comments, etc welcome. Just know I love you guys already, this has been a welcoming and talented fandom so far.


	4. Led Zeppelin Adventure Time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things get scary in lovely Morocco.
> 
> Percy and Pagey in an actual war zone.
> 
> Shower scene!! Wooo!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Someone from past adventures shows up! 
> 
> Shower time!
> 
> And also, Robert is too hot for his own good.

Robert's voice healed with rest, thanks to the gods of rock and roll.

Robert and Jimmy spent some time with their respective families, enjoying a brief period of family life, before setting off together for Morocco. This was their way of giving the middle finger to Richard, Peter, and the rest of the world, and an excuse to get away someplace different than what they were used to. They slept in hotels, they slept in tents, they stayed with friends they'd made there last time, making their inexorable way south and west, to see how close to the Anti-Atlas mountains they could get seeing as how the country was now at war off and on with Algeria, who was contesting some of the southernmost parts of Morocco. 

Their guide, Ahmad, was driving this time around, with Jimmy riding shotgun and Robert doing his usual childlike sprawl in the back. He was munching on the pastilla Jimmy had gotten him, which was a large pastry-like concoction with sweet and spicy beef and vegetables inside. It was things like this, the fact that Jimmy despite his standoffishness, paid attention to the people he cared about, what they liked and so forth. Robert had mentioned he really liked it the last time, so with no fuss Jimmy bought several for the southernmost part of their trip and gave them to Robert, who gushed and was so happy with it, making Jimmy shake his head. It was such a little thing, just local peasant food, Jimmy thought, not considering the fact Robert loved to think that Jimmy was thinking of him.

Lisa and a couple of the road crew had went as far as Marrakech with them, and had remained there to get them all nice rooms at the La Mamounia Hotel for when they returned to Marrakech. She was excited, never having visited North Africa before, even though she'd done extensive traveling for her dad's business. And also, the whole groupie thing. She would do some snooping around, see about the local music scene and so on, and wait for them to periodically to check in with her at the hotel.

It's probably a good thing the bubbly, chunky blonde didn't continue on with the boys.

Along this particular stretch of road, in between cities or towns or villages, they heard explosions to their left, over the ridge. Gunfire. Shouts, screams. The ground shook. "Drive, man, drive!" admonished Jimmy, and Ahmad stepped on the gas.

"Should we get off the road?" Robert asked. "Maybe hide?"

"We should push on," their guide suggested. "It's unusual this far north, but it's likely a local skirmish."

"We're not that far from Agadir now, so let's keep going," Jimmy agreed with Ahmad.

"Do you remember last time you had a bright idea?"

"You're outvoted. And last time you got laid by a hot Tuareg woman," Jimmy pointed out.

The guitarist had a point.

However, a loud bang sounded and the guide lost control of the Jeep, skidding to a stop. They all jumped out to see what happened, when they heard more yelling. Soldiers had crested the ridge and were making their way to them, some in military vehicles, some on foot, all armed.

"Oh. Fuck me," Jimmy gulped.

"They shot the tire," Ahmad said. "Just remain calm. Hopefully we can explain to them we're just passing through."

It didn't work, they were Algerians who'd gotten separated from their main contingent and were now convinced some Western intervention was imminent since they'd sent two long-haired spies. "Tell them we're not spies!" Jimmy hissed at the guide as they stood in a row, hands raised, guns pointed at them.

"I've been trying!" Ahmad hissed back. The travelers were dressed in robes and veils to shield against the desert sun, but one of the armed men tugged at Robert's veil when he caught a glimpse of blond curls. Robert towered over the guy but he apparently had been under the impression the singer was a woman, only to find he was wrong when Robert's face was uncovered and he glared defiantly at them.

The sergeant yelled something at Ahmad in Berber, which neither musician knew. "He says we have to come with them. He says we have entered the contested zone during a crisis and now us and all we own are in their custody."

"What? No!" Robert protested. He got death stares and twitching trigger fingers and shut up. The three watched helplessly as their Jeep was gone through, all the food, supplies, even Jimmy's guitar, confiscated.

Then they were made to follow the ragged, angry soldiers, who Ahmad said from what he could tell from their talk, were trying to meet up with their larger force, farther south, past the Anti-Atlas Mountains. This wasn't good, not good at all. "They are pretty sore. They were disappointed you weren't a woman. They haven't seen their women in months," the man informed them. "They also were considering having you anyways, since you're so attractive. Just thought you should know."

"What?? Why does everyone always want to molest me?" Robert puffed as they trudged along.

"Have you looked at you?" Jimmy said. Ahmad shrugged, holding his hands up in agreement.

This went on for a couple hours, until the company suddenly halted and began yelling again. The Algerians had spotted someone following them, on camel, it seems. The three travelers hit the dusty ground, amid more gunfire. Robert and Jimmy could actually feel the bullets whizzing overhead, terrified beyond belief now. More yelling, then the soft thuds of camel feet thundering around them, strange wet sounds, as of steel entering flesh. Robert glanced up to see the nomads scattering the soldiers willy-nilly, some taking fire and tumbling from their camels to lay still. Others had dismounted, wielding beautifully carved spears, to run through their surprised enemies. Jimmy at last looked up to see the Algerians retreating, many of their dead surrounding where the trio now lay, some of the vehicles abandoned. They got to their feet, knees shaky, to find that a large group of Tuareg, unmistakable in their deep blue turbans and white and blue robes, had driven off the soldiers with simple bolt action rifles, pistols and spears, though they did have larger numbers and the shock effect of camels trampling them.

One of the desert nomads leapt nimbly from his mount and rushed to them, laughing. He grabbed Robert, and the singer finally recognized those beautiful, deep brown eyes. "Idir! Is it you?"

He pulled down his blue veil so the rest of his striking face could be seen and smiled. "Thank goodness I found you alive!" Then he pressed his full lips to Robert's in quite a searing kiss. When Idir released him, Robert blinked in shock.

"I'm happy to see you too, mate!" Robert finally said. The other two travelers were staring with their mouths open.

"Don't greet me like that," Ahmad said.

"Your English is quite good," observed Jimmy, who got a squeezing hug from the nomad.

"I've been practicing."

"I don't recognize a lot of your comrades," Robert said as they were greeted by many of the Blue Men.

Idir's face fell. "I left the tribe of Lalla, after we settled a strip of land where the livestock could be grazed."

"But why?" wondered Jimmy.

The Tuareg man looked over at the grey-eyed companion he had from before, who joined them and took Idir's hand. "Oh, don't mistake, Lalla is a wonderful woman and leader, but I would shame the tribe if I loved Brehim, which I do and always will. So instead of dishonoring Lalla, who would be expected by the Elder Council to punish me if it was found out, I left. What you see here is the ones either rejected, banished, or left other Tuareg and Berber tribes. We have been surviving trading trinkets and acting as mercenaries and protection to travelers along the disputed lands. It was you who gave me the strength to do so," and with his free hand he pulled Robert to him and kissed him again.

Ahmad glanced sidelong at Jimmy, who shrugged and said, "He has that effect on people."

It turns out that Idir had heard of the strange Westerners with long hair that were playing music with local musicians and traveling south, and he had tried to meet up with them but had gotten delayed for various reasons, and had come upon the abandoned Jeep and followed the tracks in dread.

Now the two musicians were pushed up onto camels and Robert was hard put to stay on his mount. Strangely enough, Jimmy took right to camel riding. The Tuareg decided they would load up the confiscated gear and just lead them to Agadir, where it was relatively safe. Jimmy nudged his camel towards Idir and thanked him for their help yet again.

"It's not completely for your benefit," admitted Idir. "I was wondering if you could help us get somewhere where we wouldn't be so hard put, and so in danger of consequences of mine and Brehim's love."

"Anything, mate," Jimmy told him. "Whatever you need, we'll do it. We'll get you to Britain, whatever we can do."

When they reached Agadir, the Tuareg camped just outside of town, awaiting word from JImmy and Robert. They used the hotel office phone to contact Lisa and tell her they'd been held up due to the fighting but left it at that. Jimmy assured her all was well and they would soon be making their way back north to Marrakech. The hotel room was decent, if a bit small, and the pair was just glad to still be alive and in one piece. 

The first thing they did was strip and squeeze into the little shower stall, together, unable to be parted for the moment. Jimmy watched as Robert, directly under the stream of steaming water, wet his lustrous hair down, seeing it straggle around his face and down his shoulders. With practiced ease they took turns washing each other's hair, enjoying the tactile sensation, the feeling of being taken care of. They had to squeeze past one another to get under the spray to rinse, and at one point Jimmy just pulled Robert close, to feel his heartbeat and his warmth. Jimmy was so beautiful, Robert thought, like a Renaissance painting, all soft lines and harsh angles at once, jet black hair paired with those preternatural green eyes. He was such a sensitive soul, though few would ever see it, and even then rarely. The singer still felt at times like a big, stupid oaf next to Jimmy's wisdom and elegance, like he didn't deserve the break he'd gotten to be chosen to be in Led Zeppelin. To be chosen by such a unique human being, to be loved by him.

Jimmy kissed Robert's neck, ran his soapy hands down the broad back, and felt the younger man's cock twitch. Jimmy grinned. "Is there ever a time you're not ready for sex?"

"Not really," chuckled Robert, grabbing Jimmy's ass and squeezing. They both stirred at the friction of their members rubbing together, their bodies melded together, the warm water running down their bodies. Their lips found one another, tasting, teasing, exploring. Robert opened up to Jimmy, feeling the tongue in his mouth, returned the favor. Jimmy drew back to grip Robert's hardening manhood, that slender, talented hand sliding down, then back up its length, slowly and deliberately. The singer closed his eyes, became lost in the sensation. His Jimmy, pleasuring him, always by his side, moving along this adventure called life and taking him with him. He moaned, which excited the guitarist, who loved to play Robert's body like an instrument, an instrument of love, passion, sex.

Robert now devoured Jimmy's lips, his hand finding Jimmy's rather sizable cock and began stroking as well, both now in the throes of building pleasure. "Want you," groaned Robert. "Always, always want you. Ahhh, Jimmy. Love. Guhh...do it! Yes! Fuck, ahhh, so good."

The shit that comes out that boy's mouth, Jimmy thought, but it was driving him wild. "My Robert, my Golden God. My Sun, my heart," singsonged Jimmy in that almost nasally tone. "I want you to come, yes," they stroked faster, harder, panting, needing. Robert's orgasm hit him like a mack truck, his balls clenched up and his thick come hit both Jimmy and the side of the shower, to be washed down the drain. He stiffened all over, quivered, uttered the most lustful howl that the Earth had ever seen til that point, until he was left gasping. It was so filthy, so spiritual, thought Jimmy, who was tipped over the edge now himself. Robert managed to stroke him until Jimmy cried out, striping the wall with his own essence, and Robert milked all he could out of him until he was left a shuddering mess leaning against the taller man.

"That," Robert gasped out, "was one dirty shower."

*****

[The Wizard](http://fav.me/ddyv43n)

[Percy](http://fav.me/ddycja9)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So how am I doing? I'm a fantasy writer so that tends to come out hahaha but I started out writing fan fiction so this is a nice return to fan fic writing for me.
> 
> I think the boys will be relatively safe after this. Hopefully ;)
> 
> Oh there's gonna be more sex, too.


	5. The Sacred and the Profane

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Helping people, one person at a time, the Led Zeppelin seal of quality.
> 
> The Sacred Marriage Robert and Jimmy had, that I had only alluded to in previous stories.

Lost Boy 3

5

After a few days of mingling with musicians the pair left Agadir, but they were accompanied by Idir and his renegade Tuareg, and they had no more issues as they journeyed north back to Marrakech. It was surprising, that such a gentle people could rally in such a martial way, but then again, the founder of their folk was a warrior queen.

When Jimmy and Robert reached Marrakech, Lisa grabbed them both in bear hugs, as she’d heard about the skirmishes down where they were at and had been worried sick. They contacted Peter about getting Idir and Brehim work visas in Europe, as Jimmy hit upon the idea of the handsome pair being models, and as the mother of his child was a model, there you go. The rest of the Tuareg group would find refuge in various European countries.

When the musicians walked into the suite at La Mamounia Hotel, they were rather impressed. It was roomy, it had a kitchen and a bar. They had dinner at the hotel restaurant with Lisa, who was telling tales about the musicians playing in clubs, cafes, right in the public square, but they weren’t keen on talking to some blonde outsider, and a woman at that.

Robert had ideas on the situation. He had a couple of mini cassette recorders, state of the art at the time, and some old press passes. He suggested he would pose as a reporter, gathering information for an article in an English newspaper, and they would get actual recordings of the folk musicians in their natural element. Jimmy had to admit it was a bold and brilliant idea. Lisa clapped her hands, declaring how she always wanted to hang around a spy, like James Bond. 

Jimmy rolled his eyes, then said, “Good God, woman, are you not wearing a bra?”

“Nope. It chafes!”

“I completely agree with you, my dear,” Robert said. “I hate underwear.”

“You,” Jimmy pointed at Robert, “When we’re in places like this, wear underwear. And you, put on a bra! What are those things, double Z?”

“They’re F cup, I’ll have you know,” she sniffed.

Jimmy sighed. “That wasn’t meant as a fat joke.”

“Promise?” she gave big blue puppy dog eyes. Even Jimmy couldn’t resist, even felt a tug at his groin.

“Promise.”

“Ok,” she grinned. “Now, those nomad guys, I would really like to take one or two home.”

Robert guffawed. “Oh, a woman after my own heart. Sorry, the best looking ones are a pair. But knock yourself out with any of the others.”

The Sacred Marriage  
1969, Jennings Farm

Late evening, among the trees, two hooded and robed figures stood facing each other across a bonfire. Incense burned, water was spilled, earth tossed into the fire. The Elements, all represented. A chalice filled with wine was passed between them, first one, then the other drinking slowly and solemnly. They declared their love for one another under the sky and before the Gods, that they should never be parted, even in death. The sacred vow.

As the sun set, the robes were cast off to reveal two pale, naked figures, one with inky black hair, the taller one with golden curls. Two opposites, two halves that completed a whole, as had been idealized and idolized throughout history. Night fell as they embraced, enacting the Hieros Gamos, the Sacred Marriage, mythologized in the ritual binding of a King to the land, of monarchs and priests and priestesses, but this time both were male though they carried the feminine within them. 

Robert entered Jimmy by the firelight, and the guitarist could almost see the antlers rising up from that golden crown of curls. Robert could smell the coppery tang of blood though nothing living had been sacrificed, and could see great crow’s wings spread out from Jimmy’s back. Robert felt rather than saw the sun sinking behind the rolling hills, could feel the Earth and the creatures of the forest, hear his heart beat in tune with Nature.

Jimmy, ever ruled by his head, felt the wonder of the Mysteries that he’d read about, but passed up in favor of Crowley’s darker teachings. This was so warm, so strangely familiar, their coupling following the ripples of a pebble in a pond, spiraling outwards, adding to the splendor of the Mother Earth. He moved with Robert, noticing suddenly garlands in the yellow locks of his husband, the Hunter, the Protector of the tribe, Life itself, the Lord of the Animals. Robert looked down to see the Dark God, the Raven, often embodied as Badb, a crow goddess, a crone, but no.

He was beautiful and very much male, a holder of secrets and hidden things, the one who gives the final respite of Death, terrible and glorious and inexorable as sunrise and sunset. He gives comfort and punishment in due course.

This pair, this duo, ever at odds but never far from the other, needing and craving each other. Robert kissed Jimmy fiercely, deeply, thrusting in him, as the tides move, as the moon waxes and wanes, a little faster, now, harder, God so good, so fucking good.

Both were unable to talk, but Robert cried out, finally howling Jimmy’s name and to the Goddess and the God of his ancestors, Jimmy joined him, screaming out, oh he was coming, Robert was coming, he felt the hot jizz Robert pumped into him, his own erupting on both him and Robert.

After some time he opened his eyes, noticing the fire was burning low. He was sticky, leaves in his hair, but supremely satisfied. Night had fallen, the stars could be seen in between the breaks in the tree cover. Robert stirred beside him, raised up on an elbow and looked down at his spouse. “I love you,” he said simply.

“I love you, Robert. This was..amazing.”

1975  
Marrakech

Robert woke to sunlight shining in from the hotel window, heralding a new day. He looked down at the slender figure snuggled up to him, sleeping so peacefully. Nearing thirty, Jimmy still looked barely out of his teens, which would serve him well as he got older. Robert carefully moved a lock of dark hair, to see that round, cherubic face, so painfully beautiful to him. Those kissable lips, the fine eyebrows, almost delicate nose, broad jawline. He drank in the sight of his love, at least in slumber, he wasn’t worried, or overworked, or aggravated at something stupid Robert had done.

He loved him, though, all of him, the perfectionist drive, the ambition, the soft heart he kept shielded from the general public. Robert loved spending time with him, making music with him, fucking him, sucking his cock, watching him move about the room naked, when he finally let down his hair, finally showing who he really is. He loved making him break down and lose it during sex, that elegant, implacable demeanor crumbled completely as pleasure overtook him, making Jimmy come hard, his name torn from Jimmy’s lips. Jimmy was the only one he’d ever resign himself to being tied to, and that was tenuous at best, as Robert was such a wild hippie child. But if anyone could command his love, it was Jimmy, always Jimmy.

Nobody could make Robert melt into a quivering mess the way Jimmy could, or dare to place restraints upon his nature.

Green eyes opened, focused on the face close to his, and he smiled. Jimmy was spectacular when he smiled, truly smiled, his whole face transformed. Robert loved to see him smile. “Hello, darling,” murmured Robert, his arms around Jimmy.

“Morning, love,” Jimmy answered. “I think an angel just said hello to me.”

“No, just me, your old Robert.”

“I think a nice soak in that huge tub is in order.”

“That sounds lovely. I’m joining you.”

“Afterward, you had mentioned wanting to try sex magick. Are you still up for it?”

“Yes. I want to be a part of your interest, your magick,” Robert affirmed.

******

[You fucking hippie ass nudist](https://twitter.com/RedWidow76/status/1275961181933617157/photo/1)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Still working through how I'm gonna do the whole Crowley sex magick thing, so yeah. I have read a lot on European paganism, the modern reconstructions of various pagan traditions, etc, which is how I picture Robert, a child of nature, not of darkness.
> 
> As usual, any kudos, comments, helpful suggestions, are welcome.
> 
> Did anyone enjoy Robert's ass artwork? Anyone? is it just me? lol.


	6. The Sacred and Profane part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We get into some sex magick. Robert has a vision.
> 
> Some concert sexiness.
> 
> SEXUAL OVERLOAD ACTIVATED!
> 
> M/M/F

Lost Boy 3

6

1973 Madison Square Garden  
Filming the shows for a concert movie was still a newfangled thing for the film crew, and a novelty to the band. Robert pulled out all the stops, surprise surprise, as he lived on attention and sexual tension.

Onstage, under the lights, impossibly tight jeans slung so low when he stretched, as he did when he moved during the performance, you could see the start of his pubic hair, your eye inevitably drawn down the sweat-dampened chest where those unholy screams originated from, down the slim abdomen and pronounced hipbones, to the blond down signalling this is where the magic starts. 

Oh, by all that's holy, it was an exercise in patience for the guitarist, to not grab the lion-maned singer and fuck him raw right on the stage. The tiny shirt which hid nothing, the jeans with no underwear which hid nothing, all laid out for the audience to see. The front row became intimately aware of the size, shape, definition of Robert's bulge, and also how he was indeed hanging--which was to the left. Seeing him from behind didn't help, either, Jimmy decided, as his fine ass was just as defined as the front of him was, the belted waist just barely covering his cheeks. 

It was part of the spectacle though--the reason they sold out shows. The fans wanted to witness, to enjoy, be part of the experience. And Led Zeppelin would deliver, they'd fuck the crowd's earholes and give them pure unadulterated power and sex, a whammy of sound and visuals. Tonight was no different in that they wrung out themselves and the audience, a transfer of energy, a call and return as between Robert and Jimmy during Dazed and Confused or Whole Lotta Love.

Robert's voice had bounced back from the surgery he'd had and some illnesses he'd picked up, but it wasn't like it was in '68, when he was still a boy and not concerned with technique or could he potentially blow out his vocals altogether. Now, though, he sang within range and still made it powerful, the midtones so dynamic he didn't have to strain with hitting the higher notes. His lows were richer, more mature, than they were on the early albums, adding to the dimension, the light and shade Jimmy always wanted. 

He was no longer a boy, a gangly kid overwhelmed by fame, no he had grown, Jimmy thought as they played The Rain Song. He had put on muscle and mass in body and voice, his face lost the baby roundness of youth, and his bearing one of someone who knows how strong and bold and striking they are. He was sure without being arrogant, willing to fill his desires without seeming conceited or selfish, at times humble without it being fake. What had he done to enamor such a soul, Jimmy wondered. He was so pure, even after all the experiences they'd had, so giving and friendly and genuine. How would he react to the darkness in Jimmy's heart?

He didn't know that Robert always looked for him onstage, had to know where the dark haired mage was at all times, as the singer drew upon him for courage under the roar of thousands of fans. He found some way to be close to or touch Jimmy somehow, walking a fine line of exuberant rock stars performing, and two lovers sharing an intimate, public moment. To Robert, Jimmy was magic, he was the music, he was the mastermind. Jimmy understood him and loved him. He danced with Robert when he came close, his own sheer joy of playing not lost on the singer. Before the show, Jimmy was jangled nerves and what ifs, but during? During the show he was grace and fire and beauty and power. His dark hair falling across his eyes, sometimes partially obscuring his face, but when it emerged into the spotlights, it was the sun coming out from behind the clouds. 

Everyone responded, you couldn't help but to respond. His long legs wrapped in the Zodiac pants, the jacket worn with no shirt to reveal a nicely defined chest despite his thinness, his every movement coordinated with the music, Robert, or both. He was a showman, as much of one as Robert was, though perhaps not a blatantly raunchy as the singer. When the band started, it was his, his idea and his money and his music, but now, it was shared by four extraordinary members, four individuals so good at their craft they made the Zeppelin fly higher than any other act to date. 

In some ways, though, Jimmy was still Master. And Robert never failed to heed the Master's call.

After this show, cameras followed the group backstage, with Jimmy pulling ahead a bit. Robert made an offhand remark, and the loving laugh Jimmy gave, should've been a clue if their onstage acts weren't, of the nature of the relationship. Jimmy's face turns back toward the camera view and the smile, that bright, happy, shining smile, said more than a million words could. To catch the guitarist so open and in the moment, not thinking, just soaking up the joy from someone be loved more than life itself. To see him as the bee cheerily circling around the flower, the flower which then follows the Sun, which gives life.

1975  
Marrakech

That smile, the just woke-up-in-your-husband's-arms smile, was what spurred Robert into his decision to have Jimmy show him the sex magick. He was genuinely curious, having studied his parents little folkisms and the vague pagan undercurrent of rural country dwellers, and read what he could on neo-pagan groups, but this was a whole other world for him. Ritual, ceremonial magic, the use of drugs and sex to achieve oneness with the gods, this was something alien to him. Yet he wanted to experience it, at least once, to share another aspect of the closed-in guitarist's life. 

After a nice soak in the tub big enough for two, and a light breakfast (Jimmy having explained that the substances they'd be taking and magic they'd be attempting to raise wouldn't work so much on a full stomach), they returned to their suite, where Lisa was waiting for them. Robert turned to Jimmy in surprise. 

"She'll be here to help, as we will work on you until you reach a state between waking and sleeping, where you'll find enlightenment," Jimmy explained. "There are so few followers of Thelema in the world, I had to ask Lisa for assistance in this case. You're a big strapping lad, y'know. It may take some time."

It had been explained to Robert that the initiate would be stimulated sexually but without orgasm, until exhausted, they reached a different stage of consciousness, where they would see and experience things most never do; sometimes people prophesy, sometimes other parts of their brains were unlocked, while others may dream of things that once were. It was stressed that this was considered most holy, a sacred act that others may see as profane. The singer had always approached sex as an enjoyable and open act, reveling in his and his partner's pleasure, and so didn't have a lot of the baggage many carried about intercourse. 

Jimmy had explained all this to their minder, who was curious, having only read about such things in books. She was also instructed to keep her 'American sass' to herself, which she harrumphed but agreed to. She was always striving for new experiences, pushing boundaries, and to participate in a bona fide sexual ritual was something she was excited for, if a bit frightened. 

Jimmy put some incense in a censer, closed the curtains, and poured some liquid into a glass and handed it to Robert. Before he drank, he asked, "You had this done to you?" The guitarist nodded. "Did you see anything?"

Silence, which stretched on awkwardly, then, "I Saw you. When I was in the Yardbirds."

Robert's eyes widened. He wanted to know more, but now was not the time. Robert drank the strange, bitter drink, knowing Jimmy would likely not reveal what mind-altering herbs was in it. Before he could finish, Jimmy took it from him and gave it to Lisa, instructing her to just take a sip, to relax her and make her open to the experience. 

Jimmy then told them to remove their clothes. He was Master, here, now. Robert glanced at the blonde, her pupils growing large in her blue eyes, and wondered what it was they drank, and what was in the incense burning. Jimmy knelt slowly before the singer, and took hold of Robert's half-erect cock, to feel it stiffen more in his hand. Lisa ran her hands over Robert's shoulders, his chest, his stomach, back up again. He breathed deep, enjoying the sensations, and groaned when he felt Jimmy take him into his mouth. 

This went on, Jimmy being careful not to go too fast, for some time. Robert found himself being led to the sumptuous king-sized bed, his vision cloudy, thoughts now disjointed. His eyes were heavily dilated and glassy now, and he felt like he was moving through water. Lisa was stroking him now, as Jimmy kissed him, probing the singer's mouth with his tongue. "Oh, Jimmy," he breathed when Jimmy drew back. "This is...so good. It feels like, unnh, my body is not..ahh, my own."

The guitarist covered his singer's face with kisses, glanced down to see Lisa giving Robert the most slow yet amazing looking blow job, and his dick twitched to life at the sight. This wasn't for him, though, this ritual was for Robert. Like a master painter posing his subject, he then directed Lisa to ride Robert, and the moans and screams so familiar to Jimmy began to come out, albeit more throaty and lazily this time. Lisa was obviously enjoying herself, instinctively riding him faster, those wide hips undulating in a rhythm that made Jimmy want to fuck her hard, and he knew Robert well enough to see that he was getting close and had her back off. 

This went on, for what seemed like hours or days to Robert, he had no idea, only that he was so warm and overloaded with sensations, hands and mouths on him, all over, sucking his dick, licking his nipples, kissing him, a neverending round of pleasure. Sometimes he was given a few mouthfuls of water, only for it to start back up again. 

Lisa's heavy breasts pressed against him, Jimmy's hand on his manhood.

Jimmy's voice thrumming in his ear, telling him to let go, it was all right, reach out, seek the Gods.

The drugs in his system prevent Robert from doing what his mind wanted him to do, which was grab one of his bedmates and shag them til they all were spent, so he lay there, sometimes sitting up to clasp whoever was astride him at the time. "Jimmy, are you there? I can barely see the room, are you--?"

"I'm here, my love," came Jimmy's voice. 

"I feel so light, light as a feather," he breathed. "Oh, oh Jimmy. I love you. I hear you."

Jimmy felt he was getting close and so impaled himself on Robert's painfully engorged organ, and began moving. 

_But I knew exactly where I was  
And I knew the meaning of it all  
And I knew the distance to the sun  
And I knew the echo that is love  
And I knew the secrets in your spires  
And I knew the emptiness of youth  
And I knew the solitude of heart  
And I knew the murmurs of the soul  
And the world is drawn into your hands  
And the world is etched upon your heart  
And the world so hard to understand  
Is the world your can't live without  
And I knew the silence of the world _*

"Oh, I feel you, I feel you," panted Robert. "But I am somewhere else, too. Ah, it's so lovely..so, uhhh, lovely. "She, she is love," he grasped Lisa's arm. "You, you can't have it, not from me, love, not from me. Oh! Jimmy, love, I see someone!"

Excited as to what secrets Robert may find, Jimmy asked, "Who do you see?"

"He's a, a wizard! He's all in black, black like your hair, but he..ah, fuck, so good...but he's old, his hair is long silvery white. He's beautiful, ah, so beautiful, so delicate, like you, Jimmy."

Jimmy slowed down his grinding to prolong the state.

"He, he's holding someone, someone lays in his arms, big, strong, a king. The Mage holds the King, an old, wise king, grey in his beard, the beautiful old king, still before his time, struck down," Robert continued. 

"What?" Gasped out Jimmy. 

"And I know the echo that is love. Etched upon your heart. The silence of the world. Oh, so peaceful, the silence, but where is the Music? The King, he's a warrior, strength in his hand, the king is in his Wizard's arms, so still, so silent. The poor Mage, he weeps, he is so beautiful...The Music, we must make the Music, heed the call, mustn't we? Oh, so close, make me come, Jimmy, I need to come, all for you, for you." Jimmy had slid off of Robert to hear the last which had trailed off into whispers, but was now pumping Robert's cock, faster. Harder. The younger man bucking and writhing, clutching Lisa's hand, and he erupted, at last, the release like nothing Robert had ever experienced before, thick white come spurting, again, again, each spasm racking him pulling him pushing him where was he? I'm coming, oh Lord, down to my soul I feel it, sacred, profane, beautiful, deadly, am I dying?

Where am I?

"Is he...all right?" asked Lisa, still holding Robert's hand as he lost consciousness. 

"Yes, he'll sleep now," was Jimmy's response.

***

*Lyrics ftom the song Muzzle by the Smasing Pumpkins, which I thought fit pretty well.

[the pair](http://fav.me/ddyvjgl)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had to do a couple thousand hail Mary's after that. Whew. Hope you guys touched yourselves lol.
> 
> Comment and raise your hand if you'd like to be Lisa! Lolol


	7. A Whole Lotta WHAT?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Robert goes OFF.
> 
> So things veer off onto a weird tangent.
> 
> Bonzo admits some things. 
> 
> Now Led Zeppelin has a couple and...possibly another awkward, confused couple?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: discussion of a possible death of a major someone.
> 
> Bonzo/Jonesy doing rhythm section things. 
> 
> Maybe each other, eventually.

Lost Boy 3

7

Robert's eyes opened, he blinked slowly, his mind as yet fuzzy. Someone had cleaned him up and tucked him into the huge bed, and he stared up at the ceiling for a while, trying to collect his mind. Jimmy told him he likely wouldn't remember a lot of what he would experience once he reached the higher state, and he only had bits and pieces that he could recall. He started to sit up to discover he was still dizzy, his head reeling, managed to prop himself up against the pillows.

Jimmy returned from the kitchen with a cup, to find Robert stirring. "Rob love," Jimmy spoke, approaching the bed. "I was getting you some juice. How're you feeling?"

Robert worked his mouth a moment like he'd forgotten how to speak, then finally got out, "I'm groggy, but oddly good."

Jimmy sat beside the singer, handed him the cup which Robert drained eagerly, but his face was forcefully stoic. "You went pretty deep. Do you recall anything?"

He was silent a moment, then looked at Jimmy, eyes wide. "I saw you, as an old mage, I think. And a different man, regal..was it me?"

"It's one possibility," Jimmy said quietly. "Anything else?"

"Not really, just floating, stars, your voice. Jimmurs, why are you looking at me like that?"

"I think you may have Seen your own death," Jimmy whispered. 

"No, I won't hear this. I won't!" Robert declared, shaking his head, the blond mane of curls bouncing with the movement. "It can't be that literal, I could've been seeing something from the past, or it has nothing to do with anything, right?"

"Those are all possible, too," conceded the guitarist. "But this has me on edge. I can't lose you, Robert. I can't." His voice broke with the emotion, and he took Robert's hand without thinking.

"You're not losing me. Even if you took it at face value and the two figures are meant to be us, we're old men when I die. That's the way, the way of life, Jim." 

Jimmy sighed, unable to get over Robert's faraway voice speaking such tragedy to him, the way Lisa wept at hearing it. "Something told me it was still premature, there was still life left for you to live, still time we should be together."

"What can be done?" asked Robert in all seriousness. "It looks to be years from now. I'm glad for the experience, the sacred sex we shared, but I won't do that again. I don't think you should, either. This is too dangerous and heartbreaking. Jimmy. Promise me. Stay away from that part of it."

"I don't think I can do that."

"Then never mention this so called prophecy again. I mean it, Jim," Robert said, with a sternness he'd never exhibited before. "Please," he whispered, pulled Jimmy to him, pressed his lips on Jimmy's. The kiss deepened, became a searing, scorching pact, an act that drove need. Robert was still weak and drained, though, and eventually Jimmy extricated himself from the younger man's grip, with an exhortation to rest. Robert laid back and was asleep as soon as his eyes closed. It was a dreamless, restorative slumber. 

He awoke feeling much better, much stronger, sat up with no dizziness this time. He found the room empty, and wondered where his husband was. He pulled on a silk robe, hastily tied it around himself, and checked the kitchen and living room of the suite. Puzzled, he decided to check Lisa's room just across the hall. He knocked on the door, and Lisa opened it, clad in nightgown and curlers. "Robert! How you doing?"

Jimmy's voice sounded out, asking for Robert to come in. Robert entered, an odd, unfamiliar sensation rising in him. Jimmy was in his pyjamas, having coffee at the little table in the room, and Robert swept in and shouted, "So you put me to bed so you can fuck the chick you hate, that you talked shit about? Is that it?"

Lisa started to ask what the outburst was about, when the singer took hold of the guitarist, jerking him upright and then parting his robe to reveal a sizable erection. Jimmy waved Lisa aside. 

"What should I do?" she asked. "What--"

"Just try not to let him kill me," Jimmy said, not resisting when Robert bent him over the breakfast table, one hand on the back of his neck, his face pressed against the smooth surface. Hopefully his singer wouldn't break him completely...

Back at the ranch…  
Or actually, the home of John Paul Jones

The bassist was messing around his little home studio when the doorbell rang. He hadn't been expecting anyone, but ceased what he was doing to answer it. He found Bonzo on his doorstep, smiling uncertainly. "Oh, hullo," Jonesy greeted him in surprise.

The drummer explained that he wanted to go over some things, was afraid he'd get rusty when they started touring again in the fall. The bassist admitted that Mo was visiting relatives with the girls the next few days and so he was left at ends, and invited Bonham inside. They'd done this before at one another's house, as there was a spare drumkit in Jonesy's practice space, so they made a day of it. As evening wore on Bonzo got into the liquor stash, to the bassist's consternation.

Sober or with a few drinks Bonzo was the life of the party, funny, generous and softspoken. When heavily intoxicated, though, he could be a royal terror, punching someone in the face, destroying things, and the like. Thankfully, he wasn't pounding shots but did appear to be getting a good buzz.

"Come on, drink with me, man," the drummer goaded during a break from practice. "It'll be festive!"

"Festive, hell," chuckled Jones, and put back a lock of thick, sandy hair behind his ear. He finally relented, joining Bonzo on the couch with a drink. He could tell something was on his drummer's mind, and not feeling like beating about the bush, asked him what it was.

"I um, well, me nerves seem to be bothering me more than ever. Like, I'm afraid I'm gonna fuck up during a show, with thousands of people watching. 'Sdifferent in the studio, you can do however many takes till you get it right. You ever get that?"

"Hmm, yeah, sometimes. But mate, you're the greatest drummer I've ever seen. You have nothing to be nervous about."

"I should be more comfortable after these years of playing those huge shows though, not less," Bonzo persisted, shaking his dark brown haired head. "All those eyes on you." It was one of the reasons he drank such massive quantities.

Jonesy snorted in amusement. "Nobody's looking at me, though, just our two divas. Which is just as well, I can do without the aggravation." Jones wondered at Bonzo opening up to him, this side of him.

"Wonder how those two are doing," mused Bonham, who then knocked back the rest of his tumbler of whiskey. 

"I'm sure they're doing plenty," the smaller man inferred, then laughed. 

Bonzo laughed as well. "That's a picture I don't need in me head, thankyewverrymuch." 

They continued to drink as Bonzo regaled the bassist with tales of teenage life with Percy. It turns out Robert stole gas from parked cars so they could make it to their shows and had went to jail several times as a juvenile for stealing, mostly for Bonzo.

"Now I see why you put up with him," Jonesy laughed.

"Well, before I left home to get away from my parents' bullshit the bugger lived in my closet. He'd ran away before I did and had nowhere to go."

"In your closet?" John Paul was incredulous. He was feeling the warm languor of the booze at this point.

"Heh, yeah. Imagine waking up in the night to the big goon wanking off where you store your shirts. I'm all, ya daft geezer, me Mum's gonna hear."

"Oh hell no. I did NOT need to hear that," the bassist chortled. 

"Meh, it's Robert. Like a force of nature, that one is."

"Good looking fucker could get away with most anything," Jones agreed. "I can see why Pagey's so taken with him."

"Now Pagey's one I still ain't figured out," Bonzo said, his speech now slurring a bit. 

"How you mean?"

"He's all Mysterious Mike all the time. Like a, like a Captain Secret."

Jonesy, feeling sloshed by now, giggled.

"Jimmy beckons, Percy goes running after him," Bonzo continued. "He's a bloody musical genius, no mistake, and right fun at times. Thanks to him we're all bloody rich. I dunno about him, though. Still don't know what he's about, thinks he's some Scottish lord with that Crowley house. Messing round with magic, like as not has messed with Robert's head."

"I don't think it's quite like that, though," Jones countered, shocked to hear what Bonzo actually thought of their guitarist. "It seems real on both sides, and they're happy, right?"

The drummer snorted. "He better not break Percy's heart. I'll break his precious little soft hands."

Jonesy polished off his glass and eyed Bonzo in surprise. "You old dog. Hah! I never saw it this whole time."

"What you on about?"

"You're in love with our little golden flower," Jonesy giggled.

"Oh, come off it!" the drummer barked. "He's like a brother."

"Look me in the eye and tell me the truth. Tell me you never wanted a go. Huh?" At the silence, Jones cackled. "Y'see? I'm onto you."

"Says the chap who knows what bisexual and all the sexuals is. Sod off."

"I'm well read, is all. But mate. You'd have to be blind not to notice--"

"He's not the one I've been looking at, not anymore," Bonzo shot back, then snapped his jaw shut in horror. Both men stared at each other.

"Are you--are you _coming onto_ me?"

"No!" The drummer sputtered. "Yes. Maybe?"

Jonesy blinked. Bonzo blushed. "That's. Ah. Unexpected."

"That all you can say?"

"I mean, well, as I said before, nobody wants to look at drab old me, and--"

"Why not?" Bonzo interrupted, drunk and in full swing, fuckit-mode now activated. "That's part of the reason I get so nervous before shows, the thought of disappointing you. You, the most talented motherfucker in the world. You're bleedin' amazing. You're fucking gorgeous, you know that?"

Jonesy opened his mouth several times to speak, closed it, sluggishly tried thinking of a witty rejoinder, gave up. "God, I love you. We're gonna fuck now, aren't we?"

"Yeah, probably."

"Well then." Jonesy scooted into warm, strong arms.

*******  
Late addition  
[Bonzo](http://fav.me/ddx1p6r)  
[Jonesy](http://fav.me/ddx7dg1)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well that came out of left field, lol. It's kinda precious, though, right?
> 
> Thoughts?
> 
> Also, inserted (ha) artworks above of the awesomest rhythm section a band can have.


	8. 100% Zeppelin Fucking

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Robert in beast mode, WARNING rough sex.
> 
> M/M all around.
> 
> Jonesy and Bonham, dipping their toe into the waters while Robert and Jimmy have been splashing around happily for years. Lol.

Lost Boy 3

8

Each frenzied, savage thrust felt like Jimmy’s soul had jumped out of his body, to be reunited only to be fucked right out of him again, pinned against the small round table in Lisa’s hotel room, pyjama bottoms shucked down. Robert drilled him mercilessly, hand still gripping the back of the guitarist’s neck, the sound of skin slapping on skin punctuated by Robert’s growls. Jimmy’s face had passed up pain and was going into numbness, as it had been squashed into the table. God, it was like he was being torn in two, but oddly, he was ok with it. Let Robert ground himself, get that darkness out of him. He knew the darkness that came forth during workings sometimes.

“Robert, honey,” Lisa spoke gently, laying a hand on the singer’s shoulder. “You’re hurting him.”

He leaned into the soft touch, some of the tension lifting off him. Jimmy felt the hand ease off his neck, allowing him to raise up a bit. The feeling started to come back to that side of his face. God bless that annoying girl, he thought in passing. After what seemed like forever, the singer shuddered as he got off, screaming, pumping deep into Jimmy. After he rode that wave of pleasure out, his knees buckled, Lisa caught him on her sturdy shoulders, helped him to her bed where he lay, panting and spent. Jimmy, Robert’s juices still leaking out of him, quickly wiped what he could with some napkins before jerking up his pyjama bottoms and rushing over to Robert.

“Is this normal?” wondered Lisa.

“It’s different with everyone, but sometimes a more negative part will come out after spells, or after you do, extranatural things.”

“Say what?”

“Magic things, Lisa. Anyway, most everything has a price,” Jimmy said, bent over Robert whose eyes were starting to clear.

“I think you just paid the price, Jimmy. He just fucked you clear to your Adam’s apple, holy shit.”

“I’ll feel that in the morning, right now I think my soul is still outside my body.”

Robert’s eyes fluttered, rolled around in his head like a spooked horse, finally focused. “Jimmy,” he breathed, then reality hit him in the face like a ton of bricks. “Oh, Jimmy, did I hurt you? I slammed you down, I, I was so rough.”

“I’m fine, love. It needed to be done.”

“I’m so sorry,” tears squeezed out of his eyes as he reached up to Jimmy, who crawled into bed and melded himself against the taller man. “What happened?” He wasn’t even sure what day it was, was the ritual yesterday, or the day before?

“It’s an occasional side effect of spell working or using powers beyond that of mortals,” Jimmy answered, “It’s what happened after the diner incident. Why I acted the way I did.”

“I’d never hurt you, my Pagey, my love,” Robert said.

“I know,” Jimmy murmured back. 

Still confused and a bit frightened, Lisa went to the bathroom to remove her curlers from her hair. Just another day at the office for the Led Zeppelin crew, she supposed.

Bonzo opened his eyes in a room not his own, pushed himself up to a sitting position. Ugh, headache. He smacked his parched lips and looked around. Then he witnessed something he never thought he’d ever see—John Paul Jones nonchalantly walking around naked, sipping tea while rifling through some mail. What. The hell. Happened? Last night? He was in Jonesy’s bed in the master bedroom, naked, hungover…

Oh shit.

“Jonesy,” Bonham called to the bassist, who turned to him. “Did we uh…”

“Yes.”

“Oh shit, oh my God,” Bonzo gulped, not knowing how to process all this.

“You came onto me, I’ll have you know,” the bassist said with a raised eyebrow.

“Was it any good for you?” the drummer asked in all seriousness.

Jonesy burst into laughter at that. “Is that what you’re worried about? We were both drunk, but if the contented feeling and my soft cock is any indication, we had a blast.”

“Shit, Jonesy, that just made me hard. You filthy bugger.”

“Nice,” the bassist said, shocking the hell out of the drummer again by sliding into bed with hm.

“Thought you said you were shagged out.”

“Try me,” he said, wanting to do this sober and see how it was. The big bear of a man, so gentle and kind, such loyalty to his friends…the bassist was surrounded by thick, strong arms, pressed his own smaller, sharper body into him. He was gorgeous to Bonzo, though, so unassuming, stoic even at times, but there was a sharp mind and big heart to him, once you got past the witty barbs. Dark grey eyes stared into Bonzo’s eyes. “That’s strange,” Jonesy said almost to himself. “Your eyes are hazel, but not green. They’re blue that shade into brown. I never noticed.” He put his lips on the drummer’s, unused to the whole mustache thing but it was enjoyable. 

When they parted from the kiss, Bonzo asked “You’re ok with this?”

“I am,” was the simple answer.

Last night, they were drunk and new to being sexual with another man, but now, they adapted to pleasuring one another, with the drummer sucking Jonesy’s cock, awkwardly at first, then, encouraged by the groans of pleasure by the smaller man, grew more confident. He added a hand, rubbing up the bassist’s shaft when he pulled up with his mouth, making Jones squirm. “I’m, I’m getting close,” he breathed out, his eyes half-closed. “I didn’t know if you, were ah, ok with me finishing…”

“Hey, birds do it, so I can, right? Give it to me, Jones.” He went back to sucking, faster even, putting the bassist over the edge. He uttered a low moan, spurted into Bonzo’s mouth, who nearly choked, swallowed, paused when he got another shot, squared himself off determined to not be a quitter, then kept sucking until he milked Jonesy dry.

The bassist’s heavy-lidded eyes had rolled back into his head, Bonzo found, when he crawled back up to him. “Holy hell, that was good,” he finally said. “Now it’s your turn,” he ran his hand down Bonzo’s body and gripped the huge, engorged cock of the drummer and began moving his hand slowly up and down.

Bonzo closed his eyes, then gasped when felt Jonesy enclose him in his mouth, looked down to find the sandy-haired head bobbling up and down on his member. “Oh, fuck, yes!” he cried. His friend, his love, now. His Jonesy.

“Gahh, love, gonna come soon,” Bonzo warned the bassist, who steeled himself for the finale. Bonzo roared out, shuddered, then filled the smaller man’s mouth. He gagged a bit, managed to keep going, until the drummer was spent. That wasn’t so bad, Jones thought. In fact it was a turnon to get someone your close to off. He snuggled against the big, meaty body of the drummer, felt the comforting arms encircle him again.

This was nice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So uh, that was different, eh? 
> 
> Trying to write two headstrong, manly dudes attracted to each other. 
> 
> How's it turning out? Hopefully not gross lol.


	9. Love and Magick

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dear Robert has his own magick.
> 
> M/M Jimbert wheeeee!
> 
> Bonzo and Jonesy coming to terms.

Lost Boy 3

9

Robert was up before Jimmy (big surprise there, the dark haired man was most definitely not a morning person) and lit a candle. The singer wrote something down on a couple small pieces of paper and folded them up. He knew the moon was waning, which would aid him with what he was trying to accomplish. Naked as a babe, in the sitting room of their suite he quietly called the the Four Powers and then crooned his Intent softly, so as to not wake the sore, wrung out man sleeping in the next room. This darker magic, celestial magick, of Jimmy's, along with what Robert supposedly prophesied during the sex magick ritual, had become a source of fear and contention between them. The singer planned to alleviate at least part of it. Once he finished speaking he held each slip of paper over the candle flame to watch it be consumed.

Sympathetic magic. Diminishing magic.

He padded softly into the bedroom, and carefully slipped into bed beside his husband, tangled among the bedsheets, brought his lips close to Jimmy's ear. "Forget the fear, love," he whispered. "Forget this tragedy that is far, far away, if it will even happen the way that I Saw. Remember only the holy Act you did with me. Remember the love. Love is the Law."

Jimmy twitched, his arm moved a bit, but his breath returned to the cadence of one deep in slumber. Robert's eyes drank in the sight of the pale, thin form before him. The round face, wide set eyes, small nose. His features were written into Robert's memory. The pronounced collarbone, chest with only a perfunctory dusting of hair, smooth stomach, sharp hips he loved to grab when they fucked, he loved it all. He was a beautiful creature, so strange and ethereal, sometimes he wondered if he was even a mere mortal, and not some elf or magic being just moving through the mundane world. So headstrong and aloof at times, his personality and intelligence far surpassed his almost frail looking form, he commanded attention without even speaking a word. Robert loved him without question, with no reservations, as only a young, passionate man who'd never been seriously heartbroken can love.

The singer felt terrible about what he did to Jimmy, which left faint marks on Jimmy's face and the back of his neck, and the other end sore as well. Could he have imagined it, when he was savagely fucking Jimmy into the table, that Jimmy was hard, was aroused? Did he imagine the way he submitted, no protests, no pretense, was just ready for him? He hoped it was the case, and Jimmy hadn't been upset over it, other than being sore. 

Robert didn't know that Jimmy had done a ritual of his own while he was asleep the night before. _He will try to forget, so let him if he wants. But he must come to me when that time draws near. No matter what comes or what happens between us, he must seek me out so I can stop what he Saw. His Light, that Light needs to be in the world as long as it can. As long as I can have him, hold him. He is the Sun, I am the Moon. Without the Sun, the Moon has no purpose. Without him, I have no purpose._

Robert had dozed off and his lover had instinctively sought out and snuggled into the familiar, strong body. He settled a long arm around Jimmy, who stirred and began to awake this time. He rolled to face Robert, opened the earthy green eyes, then smiled, the smile Robert always wanted to see. He leaned in, planted the most featherlight kiss on the singer's lips. It seared Robert to his soul, made him shiver in need, just that most small, delicate of touches, Jimmy's soft, full lips on his.

"Robert, I need you. I need to be inside you," Jimmy said, with the certainty of the mage.

Robert responded by grinding his just-waking-up erection against Jimmy's own growing one; he was ready, always ready for Jimmy. The guitarist kissed Robert again, hands running down the taller man's side to seek out his prize, the cock that was stiffening into one hell of a love tool. Robert moaned into the kiss, which made Jimmy now fully hard. The guitarist ran his delicate hand up and down the shaft, getting some groans from the blond man.

Using a couple pillows, Jimmy propped Robert's ass up, lubed his fingers, and prepared Robert's hole. Robert squealed so sexily when he got three fingers into him, was begging for Jimmy to give it to him. He wasted no time lubing himself up and then positioned himself at Robert's entrance. He slid the head into him, making them both gasp at the sensation. Jimmy pushed all the way in, sinking to the hilt. "Oh, Jimmy! Baby!" Robert groaned. 

The guitarist began moving in Robert, marveled at all this time, sex with Robert never got old. They wanted each other just as much as the first time they made love, in his house at Pangbourne, what sometimes seemed like forever ago. Robert was so warm, so gorgeous, he was fire, he was love and lust. Robert's long legs were now on Jimmy's shoulders, the younger man bucking to meet Jimmy's thrusts. How could someone be pure sex and yet so pure and open and even innocent? 

Penetrating this god, this shining one, wonderful one, Jimmy felt like he was taking part in a holy rite, not a dark, power seeking sex magick ritual, but one of sponateous joy and pleasure, old as life itself yet daily new as each sunrise, true and powerful in itself. This long, muscular, golden body he penetrated, back arching with his pleasure, brought all this. He was a gift to the world, Jimmy realized, one that he couldn't keep just for himself. A gift that was to be enjoyed and protected.

But this though, moments like this, Robert was his, all his. His body responded to Jimmy's touch and skill the way his guitar and Theremin did, and he never got tired of seeing Robert in the throes of passion, Jimmy thrusting harder and faster into him as Robert pumped himself with his hand, eyes half-closed, such wanton, primal sounds spilling from those thin, rosy lips. He knew that body so well that he could tell when Robert was nearing his peak. 

Nostrils flare, his free hand clutches the bedsheets, his body tenses up slowly as it builds. That mouth, that unbelievably filthy mouth that utters such animal screams and sexually charged moans and obscene imprecations is now open, baring his teeth, face taut.

Jimmy increases speed, slapping skin on skin as he pushes in and out of Robert, he wants to go when his husband climaxes. And there it is, he feels the younger man shudder underneath him, his cock erupting, stripes of come hitting them both, him screaming out "FUCK Jimmeeee ahhh you, fuck, RIDE ME! So good, you fuck me so good!"

It was more than Jimmy could take, he slammed into Robert still writhing under him and felt his own orgasm, full on draining his balls it felt as he filled Robert with his own essence. He pulled his softening cock from Robert, gasping, then grabbed some towels to clean them both up. Afterward, he lay in Robert's arms, wondering at something tugging at his consciousness.

Robert was basking in the afterglow, enjoying the closeness of the other man. The climax he'd had was incredible, he so very much adored Jimmy, had tried before to express it to him. He still didn't think Jimmy really understood how alive, needed, and wanted he made him feel.

"Rob," Jimmy spoke into the silence. "There was something about the sex magick ritual that was problematic, wasn't there? I can't seem to recall now, though. It was something you Saw, I believe. Something terrible. We were upset."

"I saw something from the past long gone," Robert fibbed, his own recollection now growing hazy. "It was quite sad, I think you said it must've been symbolic."

"A King and a Sorcerer, wasn't it? I can't place it," his face had darkened with the effort of trying to remember, then he at last gave up. "Ah, well, these things are different for everyone. It is a Mystery."

Across the kitchen table at John Paul Jones' house, the drummer and bassist were eating breakfast: eggs, toast, bacon, jam. They would periodically look up at the other as if to say something, then change their mind and look down at their plate. "Ok, look, I think the best thing is to not tell anyone else," Bonzo at last bulldozed into the situation. "It's bad enough Led Zeppelin already has one set of fruity loons."

"I'm thinking of what our divas will think," Jones half-joked. "We're supposed to be the regular guys, the foundation."

"We're still regular blokes. Percy and Pagey never were. Anyway, I'm not sorry," he said defiantly. 

"Neither am I," Jonesy said, smiling his rare but gorgeous smile at the drummer.

They finished eating and Bonzo regretfully announced he needed to get back home to his family. Before he went out the front door, the bassist grabbed him with surprising strength and kissed him, long and hard. "You'll be coming back for another visit soon, won't you?" Jonesy asked.

"Yeh, love. I will."

****

[Planty](http://fav.me/d7kxnq0)   
[Paget](http://fav.me/d4c0yj8)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This particular volume may have run its course, I don't know for sure yet. 
> 
> Some notes:  
> Timelines were kept as historically accurate as possible, however the 1975 Morocco trip I'd saw somewhere that Robert and Jimmy brought gheir families with them. I took artistic liberty with that, along with some asoects of the Tuareg, who are a subset of the Berbers, both of which are African nomads of various ethnic descent. 
> 
> Hope you liked, hope I made you feel something, hope you guys are staying safe and healthy! I'm getting some ideas for another Latter Days story, with our beloved boys old and (somewhat) dignified.

**Author's Note:**

> Ok so this is me trying to turn people on without actually having sex. Or something. I don't know, did it do anything for any of you? lol. Also hope you enjoy the artwork.
> 
> Any kudos, words of encouragement, nachos, cheese sammiches, etc much appreciated.


End file.
